Answer me this
by Violet Kefira
Summary: While flipping through a Witch Weekly magazine, which he's only reading because he's bored, you know, Harry comes across an interesting quiz that he and Hermione decide to take. 'My first kiss was with...you.'


**Story Title: **Answer Me This  
**Author: **Violet Kefira  
**Summary: **While flipping through a _Witch Weekly_ magazine (he swears he only read it because he was bored), Harry comes across an interesting quiz that he and Hermione decide to take. "My first kiss was with...you." HHr. Yum.

**A/N: My, my it has been an awful while since I last coughed up one of these stories. It's actually in answer to a challenge over at (lovely site, you really must all check it out). Harry/Hermione embarrassing cuteness. I do hope you like it!**

BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML

Harry yawned. It was a bleary Saturday afternoon, and he had absolutely nothing to do. The thick fog outside had forced him to call off Quidditch practice, and neither of his two friends were around. He was so bored, in fact, that he had been reduced to flipping through the latest edition of _Witch Weekly_. Some of the articles were absolutely ridiculous! I mean honestly, he thought, who wants to know how some obscure actress keeps her hair from turning green in the mornings?

Just when he decided he'd go try to find Ron, one article caught his eye. This one wasn't about make-up or clothes or boys, but about friends.

_The Best Friend Quiz: How Well Do You Know Yours?_

Well that's not so bad, Harry thought. Conveniently, Hermione traipsed through the portrait hole just at that moment, book bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Her eyes scanned the Common Room until she found Harry. She beamed.

"You're _reading_!" she cried, ecstatic, as she walked over to him. "How marvelous! I had hoped you'd use the extra time from Quidditch practice to catch up on – _Witch Weekly_? Why on earth are you reading _that_?"

"There was nothing else to do, Hermione," Harry said, defending himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed to the pile of untouched text books on the couch beside him. "You could have studied, prat. Don't you realize that you have a Potions essay due tomorrow?"

Harry glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece. It read 5:47. "I've got at least four hours before I really need to start working on it. Don't sweat it, Hermione."

She gave him a clearly exasperated look. "You're hopeless."

Harry smirked. "But you love me anyway, don't you?"

A faint pink blush tinged her cheeks; Harry was baffled. Since when did _Hermione_ blush? "Of course I love you, Harry," she said, not quite meeting his eyes. "What were you reading in there?" She moved his books over to the other side of the couch and plopped down beside him.

Confused by her strange behavior, it took Harry a moment to realize what she was talking about. "Oh! The magazine, right. There's this quiz in here about how well you know your best friend. You want to take it?"

Hermione shrugged. "Sure. I'll quiz you first." She briskly took the magazine out of his hand and scanned the questions. Inwardly, Harry sighed in relief. _This_ was the Hermione he knew. "Question one," Hermione began. "When was the last time I was really mad?"

Harry considered. There were countless times when she'd been annoyed at him and Ron when they failed to complete assignments, but he supposed that didn't really count. "Um, maybe when Malfoy was poking Crookshanks the other day with that sharp pin?"

Hermione's eyes clouded over with anger. "Correct," she said darkly. Oh my, Harry thought, have I gone and gotten her all worked up now? But no, Hermione shook her head slightly and her eyes took back their usual gleam. "Question two: What's my all-time greatest fear?"

Harry took a stab in the dark. "Heights?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Er, spiders?"

She shook her head. "That's Ron, stupid," she scolded, but she was smiling. "I'd have to say not doing my best, or if my best wasn't good enough. And then there's losing the ones I love, like Ron…and you, especially you." A tender look graced her pretty features. Again, Harry felt bewildered. Was Hermione sick?

"Next question," he croaked after a moment of silence.

"Oh, right, okay, question three…" Hermione glanced down at the article in her hands. "What's my favorite kind of weather?"

Harry grinned. Too easy, he thought "Rainy and dark, just like today."

"That's right," Hermione said. She tilted her head to the side. "But why do you say that?"

"You don't have to go outside or watch Ron and I play Quidditch," he replied with a smile.

She laughed. She has a rather nice laugh, Harry thought suddenly. He'd never noticed it before, but he did now. "Okay, would I rather do well in school or fall in love?"

"Do well in school," Harry answered immediately, but Hermione shook her head.

"I'd much rather be quite the stupidest person on earth than never fall in love," she told him, to his surprise. "But it doesn't really matter. I've already accomplished both."

Harry was stunned. Hermione was in love? With who? Ron, surely, he thought. Why didn't he know about this? And why in the world did he suddenly feel sick?

Hermione must have noticed the questions on the tip of his tongue, because she went on to the next question. "What's the most spontaneous thing I've ever done?"

Frustrated by the lack of information, Harry didn't answer right away. Instead, he glared at Hermione over his glasses. She remained composed and calm, frustrating him even more. "I don't know," he snapped. The sudden hurt in her eyes made him feel horrible. "I mean, maybe when you went swimming in the lake with me last winter?"

She gave him a small smile, and he knew she'd forgiven him. "I suppose that could be it. What foods constitute my perfect meal?"

Harry thought back on all the meals they'd shared. "I know you really like Shepherd's Pie, right?" She nodded. "Okay, so that and carrots? No, green beans. Pumpkin juice to drink and some raspberry cheesecake for dessert." He'd noticed that she was always the first to finish when the had the cheesecake for dessert.

"Close, but no cigar," she told him. "I'd rather have twice-baked potatoes than beans. But my Mum is the only one who makes them the way I like them, so it's only logical that you wouldn't know about that. What charm do I use the most?"

Harry smirked. "_Occulus Reparo_," he answered. "Because of my obvious dislike towards working glasses." Hermione giggled, and he felt rather pleased with himself. He found he rather liked making Hermione laugh.

"I'd say so," she replied. "Question eight: how many children do I want to have?"

Harry's mind went blank. The two of them had never talked about _babies_. "Um, two?" he guessed.

"I'd rather have about seven," she said. Harry gawked.

"Are you _serious_?" he cried. Her face broke out in a grin.

"Of course not. I want about four or so." He nodded. That made _much_ more sense. "And what will their names be?"

This is rather difficult, Harry thought. He had noticed that she seemed to like old-fashioned names, so he tried out a few in his head. Sally Granger, Nathaniel Granger, Hannah Granger. Then he realized that Hermione's children's last name wouldn't be Granger. The thought of Hermione grown up and married was an odd one. He tried a new name. Hermione Weasley. Well, _that_ sounded abominably ridiculous. Quite suddenly the name Hermione Potter sounded rather nice.

Banishing the thought from his head, he guessed, "Some girl names might be Elise, and, um, Clara? Then maybe Jared and…Jonathon for boys?"

She scratched her chin with one fingernail as she thought. "Clara and Jonathon sound nice, but I don't think I'd like Elise or Jared. How about…Harry and Annabelle instead?"

She wanted to name a child after him? Harry Potter Jr. thought Harry. Then he mentally shoved the thought away. Why did thoughts of him and Hermione married keep coming up?

"I like those names," he told her; she beamed. "Next question."

"What's my favorite piece of clothing?" Hermione asked. Goodness, that's difficult, Harry thought. But she did seem to wear that purple knit sweater a lot.

"The purple sweater you have?" he guessed.

"I do love that sweater," Hermione admitted. "But actually, my favorite is that green shirt of yours that I borrowed a while ago. I love it because it, well, it smells you. It's like a great, big Harry-hug every time I put it on!" Harry's face immediately turned a bright crimson. Hermione likes a shirt that smells like _me_? he thought, incredulous. Hermione apparently found his blush very funny, because she burst out laughing. Grumbling, he smacked her with a handy pillow from the chair next to their sofa.

A few moments later, though still chuckling, she was composed enough to ask him the next question. "Would I rather travel by Floo Powder, Portkey, or broom?"

"Well, nobody likes Portkeys," Harry thought aloud. "And you've never liked flying, so I guess Floo Powder."

Hermione shrugged. "I guess that could be right. But I'd fly if you were with me." It was Hermione's turn to blush, though hers was much fainter.

Harry smiled, thinking, Flying with Hermione would be really great. The thought of her clinging to him out of fright was a rather pleasant one.

"What's my dream job?" Hermione asked.

Immediately, Harry answered, "Hogwarts Professor or a Healer."

Hermione smiled at him. "Very good! How many times have we downed butterbeer together?"

"Wow, I have no idea," Harry said, and he scratched his head. "There's been so many times. I'd guess somewhere over a hundred." Hermione thought for a minute before replying,

"That sounds about right, actually. Okay next question. What Quidditch position am I most qualified for?"

"None!" Harry said, and he laughed. Hermione smacked him playfully on the arm. "Okay, okay. You'd play…Seeker. Because you've always been good at finding things when your friends need them the most."

Hermione tackled him in a fierce hug. He winced slightly as her elbow made contact with one of his ribs. That's going to bruise tomorrow, he thought. "You are so sweet!" she whispered in his ear. He snaked his arms around her waist to make sure she didn't try to leave. This is nice, Harry thought. Hermione laid her head in the crook of his neck and he was surprised to find that she seemed to fit perfectly.

"Next question," he said softly. He then wished he hadn't spoken; Hermione had to pull away from his embrace to retrieve the magazine from where it lay a few feet away (she'd thrown it as she hugged him). When she returned to the couch, she once again took her seat at his side. Inwardly he felt disappointed, then confused. What was going on? When did he start missing Hermione's touch?

"What's my favorite hex of choice?" she asked.

Harry thought quickly before answering, "_Rictusempra_?" he tried.

"That sounds right," Hermione said. "Okay, is there something in my room that I hide from everyone and what is it?"

"Diary?" Harry guessed.

Hermione tilted her head to the side inquisitively. She looks cute like that, Harry realized, then berated himself for the thought. "How'd you know?" she asked.

"Just a guess," he said. "I figured that most girls have diaries."

"True," Hermione replied. "Do I have any birthmarks and where are they?"

Harry's eyes flew over what he could see of Hermione's skin. He leaned forward and gently turned her arm over. He touched a red spot like a little star near the underside of her wrist. "You've got this little spot here, and there's a little brown freckle on your neck right about…here." He moved her hair aside (noting that it was silky soft as he did so) and brushed his fingers over the little brown dot. Hermione shivered at his touch and he drew back quickly. What was happening to them?

"Right," Hermione told him. "What would my animagus form be?" Harry seriously thought before answering. An animagus form was supposed to reflect your personality, so he really had to think.

"A panther," he said finally. "Because they're intelligent, clever, and beautiful and deadly at the same time, just like you." Once again Harry found himself being bowled over in a hug. Secretly, he rejoiced that Hermione was in his arms again despite the fact that she'd just formed a new bruise on his left arm with her sharp knuckles.

"You are quite possibly the most wonderful person _ever_," Hermione informed him. Harry chuckled.

"I think that position has already been filled by this lovely girl in my arms," he said, then had to resist the urge to clap a hand over his mouth. That sounded so ridiculous! he thought, mortified. I just had to open my big mouth and say something like _that_.

But Hermione wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought she'd be. She merely nuzzled his neck with her nose and settled herself against him again. Fortunately, Hermione had kept the magazine with her this time, so she didn't have to leave Harry to ask him the next question. "What's my favorite thing about you?"

Harry was stumped. "I have no idea," he told her.

She pulled away slightly so she could look at him. "I love these big green eyes of yours," she said. "They're so gorgeous and expressive. They're like a window into your soul." Harry blushed slightly. If he wore his emotions on his sleeve so obviously, did that mean that Hermione knew about the rather un-best-friend-ish thoughts he'd been having about her in the last few minutes? He sincerely hoped not, as he didn't quite know what they meant himself.

"Last question, right?" he inquired. She nodded, then looked down to read the question. She immediately turned positively _scarlet_.

"I'm very tired," she said then. "I think I'll just go on up to bed now." She made to get up, but Harry pulled her back.

"Oh, no, Little Miss," he chided playfully. "We've gotten this far. It's just one more question."

"No, no, Harry, we really don't need to finish it," she said, shaking her head vigorously. Harry stuck out his bottom lip slightly and opened his eyes wide.

"Please?" he pouted. Instead of the submissiveness he'd expected, Hermione just burst out laughing. He was incredulous. "What's so funny?"

Hermione clutched her side. "You…your face!" she shrieked finally. She fell back against him, laughing uproariously.

Well, Harry thought. At least she didn't leave. After several moments, Hermione calmed down enough for Harry to take the magazine out of her hand and glance down at the last question. "Who was your first kiss with? What kind of question is that?"

Hermione obviously hadn't meant for him to see. She blushed again. _Horribly_. "There's no reason for you to try and answer, Harry."

"What? Why not?" Harry asked. "I expect it was Krum, right?" A horrid sinking feeling suddenly filled him at the thought of Hermione kissing the Bulgarian seeker.

But Hermione was shaking her head. "No? Ron, then," he guessed again. He felt significantly more repulsed at this thought, for some reason.

"No, of course not," Hermione replied, refusing to meet his eyes. Harry was confused.

"Who then?" he asked. He couldn't think of any one else that Hermione had ever seemed to be interested in.

"My first kiss was with...you," Hermione said quietly. Harry felt a jolt of electricity run through his body.

"But – you never kissed me," he objected. I wish you had, though, he thought. The thought didn't seem so strange to him now.

"Actually, um, I did," she said. "It was late one night and you'd, um, fallen asleep over your homework down here in the Common Room. You just looked so darned adorable sitting there with your arms sprawled out all over the table and our glasses askew; I – I couldn't help myself. I'd fancied you for quite some time at that point and, well, I kissed you. You didn't wake up, though. I'd half hoped you would." She pulled out of his embrace until they weren't touching at all, and she stared down at her lap despondently.

Harry was stunned. Hermione had kissed him? She had fancied him? A sudden thought occurred to him. "Do you – well, do you still fancy me?" he asked quietly.

Hermione nodded without a word. "I'm sorry you found out," she said. "I hate that things are going to be awkward between us now."

"Oh, I expect things will be fine between us so long as you give me one thing," Harry said, mischief playing in his eyes.

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. "Anything."

He smirked. "A chance to kiss you while I'm awake." Before his words could fully register in her mind, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers softly. His only coherent thought was that it felt _right_.

When he pulled away a few moments later, Hermione's eyes fluttered open slowly. She gazed at him in disbelief for a moment. Then, for the third time that day, she tackled him with a bear hug. Harry decided he couldn't care less about the bruises.

BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML BML

**A/N 2: Yes, I realize that this is totally ridiculous and not at all in sync with HBP, but I really don't care. I'm writing a little HBP compatible one-shot which I'll post eventually. So there. Much love to you all! (Leave a review puppy eyes)**

Violet Kefira


End file.
